


I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

by Toomanyfandoms99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Amulet, Angst, Demon Dean, Enochian, Fluff, Heaven, Heaven & Hell, Hell, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Post-Series, Smoking, trueform!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 11:16:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16554743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: This is what Dean Winchester remembers:He used to be a monster hunter.  He had a little brother named Sam.  His mother died when he was a child.  His father raised him to kill creatures that went bump in the night.He has known Castiel for most of his life.  They died beside one another.This is what Dean Winchester knows:He has been dead for decades.  He is a demon comprised of red smoke and anger.He is the king of Hell.Castiel is the king of Heaven.Dean Winchester loves Castiel, and Castiel loves him.Unbeknownst to their subordinates, Dean and Castiel’s love for each other is what kept the world at balance.  A perfect equilibrium.The problem?Well, there were many.





	I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the song “Undisclosed Desires” by Muse. Enjoy this insanity!

This is what Dean Winchester remembers:

He used to be a monster hunter. He had a little brother named Sam. His mother died when he was a child. His father raised him to kill creatures that went bump in the night. 

He has known Castiel for most of his life. They died beside one another.

This is what Dean Winchester knows:

He has been dead for decades. He is a demon comprised of red smoke and anger.

He is the king of Hell.

Castiel is the king of Heaven.

Dean Winchester loves Castiel, and Castiel loves him.

Unbeknownst to their subordinates, Dean and Castiel’s love for each other is what kept the world at balance. A perfect equilibrium. 

The problem?

Well, there were many.

————

Castiel loathed this arrangement, these circumstances.

Castiel has everything he ever wanted, except for the one person that really mattered.

But this was how the cookie crumbled. Castiel and Dean had no other choice.

Just under a century ago, the human and the seraphim had to take control of Heaven and Hell. It was the only way to stop demons and monsters and angels from interfering with Earth.

Dean did it for Sam’s safety. Sam was long dead now. Sam had his happy ending. That was enough to make Dean’s sacrifice not be in vain.

Still, Dean remained a demon, and a king at that. A lonely king ruling over pain and misery and fire and death and darkness.

Castiel, meanwhile, ruled Heaven with an iron fist. It was all he could do to gain respect and quell rebellions. Thankfully, most of the angels that knew him as a traitor were dead. 

Castiel’s kingship, though, was contested until recently. Until God himself, in the form of Chuck, appeared before Heaven’s angels and gave Castiel his blessing as ruler. Since then, angels worshipped Castiel, wept at his feet and bowed with respect. It unnerved Castiel; he did not want to be treated this way. But this is what God wanted. And Castiel shall always remain God’s servant.

Everything has reached a state of peace, both in Heaven and in Hell. That’s what lead to a steady arrangement between both astral planes.

An arrangement that Castiel both detested and enjoyed.

————

For one hour every month, Dean Winchester and Castiel met in person.

They would choose a different motel room on Earth for every meeting. Dean and Castiel would say they were speaking diplomatically, having meetings to ensure Heaven, Hell, and Earth did not interfere with each other’s affairs. There were no conflicts with Earth anymore; that would defeat the very purpose why Dean and Castiel took power in the first place.

Their respective subordinates thought these meetings and agreements were what kept the world at balance. They were not.

It was love. Plain and simple.

The love that Dean and Castiel had for one another was strong enough to move mountains. Strong enough to make the cruelest men cry. Strong enough to hold the world together.

How they showed that love?

Well…it was complicated.

————

Dean entered the room and saw a cloud of smoke permeating the air.

A body sat at the table. Legs crossed, pants perfectly tailored to cling to the wearer’s skin, defining an athlete’s calves and knees and thighs. Shined black shoes pointed towards Dean, almost accusatory. A button-up dress shirt made of light blue silk defined the subtle yet powerful muscles hiding beneath it. A hand rested on the tabletop, fingers tapping against the wood in a quick one-two rhythm.

Dean loves what those hands could do to him.

The opposite hand held a cigarette to a pair of plush lips, smoke falling from a slightly parted mouth. 

Behind the smoke was the same face Dean memorized since the day he met the angel. Tan skin, a sharp jawline, defined cheekbones. Eyes that electrified Dean like a bolt of lightning, blue irises shifting shades with every passing second.

They were a pair of sapphires when Dean pleasured him.

His jet black hair was just the right amount of messy, reminding Dean of the birdlike creature that he was.

Dean moved like water towards him, his boots dragging against the cheap motel carpet. Dean’s bow legs used to make him clumsy, but he had learned how to glide on them, adding an air of regality and intimidation to his well-built frame.

Dean loosened his posture as he neared closer, the smoke cloud thinning. He reached the opposite end of the table, but kept walking leisurely. 

The cigarette met Dean’s favorite pair of lips for one final drag. An arm went to the table, putting out the cigarette with one swipe on an elegantly-crafted glass ashtray. 

Dean reached Castiel, still sitting, his head tilted upwards, his blue eyes especially piercing. The motion was almost catlike, considering, curious. Then, Castiel parted his lips into an O shape, blowing out a perfect smoke ring. Dean watched raptly as the small circle widened as it travelled through the air, dissipating a foot away.

Dean swiveled his head back to Castiel, an eyebrow half-raised. Castiel stood up slowly, as if measuring his every movement. Once he reached full height, he looked right into Dean’s eyes, their faces achingly close together. Castiel rolled back his shoulders, then let them droop.

There was no need to put on masks in each other’s presence.

Dean read Castiel’s thoughts perfectly. He deepened his voice, an underlying desire mingling with his tone. “I apologize for my momentary tardiness, my love.”

For a long moment, Dean was sure that Castiel would gripe at him, turn him away, make him wait another month just out of spite.

Castiel glanced at his now-dead cigarette, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like butterfly kisses, then back to Dean. His voice was a rumbling thunderclap, one that rattled Dean’s bones. “Is there trouble in paradise?”

“Just the usual. And you?”

“Just the usual.”

Dean frowned and stared at his scuffed boots. He should have one of his lackeys spitshine them. Perhaps a child murderer. 

Dean exhaled, focusing on the flimsy buttons on Castiel’s shirt. “How is my-”

“Sam is doing well.”

Dean nodded numbly. His eyes travelled back to Castiel’s. “Anything else?”

Castiel shook his head.

Dean allowed a genuine side smile to light up his features. “May I?”

Castiel huffed haughtily, his eyes looking at the space past Dean’s left shoulder. “I should really say no.”

Dean glanced at his boots again remorsefully. “You know we aren’t as clear cut as right and wrong.”

Castiel pursed his lips, his gaze sliding to Dean’s tentative one.

Dean took this as Castiel’s permission to continue. Dean said lowly, focusing on Castiel’s pink lips, “I’m a little bit right, and you’re a little bit wrong. I’m a little good, and you’re a little bad.” He gathered the strength to meet Castiel’s piercing gaze. “We’re on Earth. It’s just us here. There’s nothing constraining us, telling us to stick to our scripts. We have,” Dean searched for a clock, “fifty minutes left to make a choice.” Dean boldly raised a hand to Castiel’s left cheek, his palm slowly sinking into Castiel’s stubble. Surprisingly, Castiel allowed the preemptive touch. “Denying ourselves the opportunity to be a little good and a little bad in a world where we can’t be ourselves will only make the next month we can’t see each other more painful.” Dean felt a flash of pain at the thought of Castiel rejecting him, but soldiered on. “You’ve kept me going all this time, my love. You. No one else. Seeing you reminds me of who I am. Who I was. Who I can only be in your presence. I rely on you, my king. Will you allow us to have this?”

Dean waited with bated breath as the seconds etched into his brain, the rising number carving like sigils. He watched Castiel’s eyelashes fan his cheekbones as he thought. Dean swallowed thickly, and slowly drew his hand away from Castiel’s cheek.

As Dean’s fingers receded towards Castiel’s jaw, Castiel held Dean’s hand in place.

Startled, Dean’s eyes widened as Castiel’s irises shifted to an oceanic hue, slowly being revealed as his eyelashes moved upwards.

Castiel rumbled, “I always thought our arrangement meant little to you.”

Dean was taken aback, a shock running through him, nearly sending him careening to the floor.

Did Castiel really think so poorly of himself? After all these decades?

After Dean said his name into his skin as they fell apart in bed?

Dean splayed his fingers on Castiel’s jawline. He allowed his tone to soften. “Why else would I call you my love, my love?”

Castiel’s doubts still plagued his expression.

Dean hated himself for letting Castiel’s insecurities worry him this long. 

Dean said something aloud that he had always known, deep in what remained of his tattered soul. “I can’t remember the exact moment when I fell in love with you. It was so long ago. It was why I kissed you before we died, before we established this deal. I wanted you to know that, whatever happened, my love for you would remain. Always.” Dean continued with new vigor, drilling the words into Castiel’s head. “Even in death, even when I’m a shell of my former self, even when I’m nothing but a red smoke monster behind this body, I love you with whatever’s left of me.” Dean’s jaw clenched. “That clear enough for you,” he let fondness reach his tone, “you ridiculously oblivious, obstinate, ostentatious creature?”

Castiel’s eyes flashed with too many emotions to name. They soon settled on something Dean couldn’t decipher, even after all this time. “Is it commonplace nowadays to insult the one you aim to seduce?”

Dean’s mouth quirked upwards. He quickly corrected himself, feeling silly for letting his temper rise up in a sacred space such as this. “Am I being clear enough for you, you clever, sassy, sweet, kind, beautiful angel?”

An endearing rosy blush stained Castiel’s cheeks, but he spoke playfully. “I recall a time when you slurred your words. Ostentatious. Where did you learn such advanced vocabulary?”

Dean arched his thumb upwards, swiping the pad of his finger along the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “You, my love,” he answered.

Castiel considered this. A reply to Dean’s earlier question fell from his lips. “I will allow us to have each other.”

A soft smile reached Dean’s features. He felt lovestruck, hit with Cupid’s arrow, utterly unable to fight its overwhelming power. Dean suddenly realized that they had been an inch apart this whole time. Neither one of them had moved a muscle. Not even a millimeter. They were caught in each other’s orbit, incapable of breaking free.

Dean took a half-step forward, his hand falling from Cas’s cheek, being exposed to the cold air. He leaned forward, their foreheads pressing together. He whispered, “do you love me as I love you, Cas?”

Blue eyes pierced Dean’s. Castiel breathed, “of course I love you. I’ve always loved you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean molded their bodies together, forcing Castiel to hold them with carefully placed hands on hips. They touched everywhere, except for the one place that mattered.

Dean exhaled, “show me.”

Dean watched lovingly as Castiel’s walls fell before his very eyes, his self-control going out the window as their lips met.

————

Castiel observed Dean dress with unashamedly prying eyes.

Watched as Dean pawed for his boxers and slipped them on under the sheets. Watched as Dean — after a searing kiss — slid out of bed gracefully and hunted for his clothes on the floor. Watched as Dean popped back in his vision and shimmied on skin-hugging jeans. 

Jeans that had no right to cling to Dean like that.

Watched as Dean slipped a red tee over his head, unfortunately swallowing Dean’s lovely torso. Watched as Dean threw on a black leather jacket, the various colors that comprised Dean Winchester clashing in the strangest way.

Blonde hair. Emerald eyes. Freckles that only dotted Dean’s face on Earth, in the motel room lighting. Pink lips that formed the most beautiful smiles when he was unhindered with responsibility. Red shirt. Black jacket. Blue jeans. Brown boots.

Dean was a rainbow here. Always a plethora of color.

Dean Winchester was more than a little bit good.

As Dean pulled himself together, making sure not a hair or thread was out of place, Castiel sat up against the pillows and watched.

Red smoke monster aside, Castiel was in love. He was absolutely certain of something now: Castiel and Dean’s love was what kept the world balanced.

And the world hadn’t been as hectic, recently.

Growing impatient, Castiel took a section of the sheets and slipped out of bed. He cast the sheets haphazardly around his hips, tying them around his waist like a towel. 

Dean looked over his shoulder at the rustling, emitting a low growl.

Smirking, Castiel approached Dean, swaying his hips as he moved, the sheets dragging along the carpet in the manner of a ball gown.

Castiel had grown rather skilled at eliciting reactions, at seducing his fellow king.

Castiel went to Dean’s side with his head held high, the two-inch height difference between them not seeming so vast. He found a flyaway hair, reaching his hand out to fix Dean’s drooping strand. Dean’s breath hitched, his eyes watching Castiel intently. Castiel focused on Dean’s hair, knowingly pressing his bare torso against Dean’s arm. Dean’s hand reacted, his fingers lightly brushing Castiel’s navel. 

Castiel withdrew once he got Dean’s strands back in place, but Dean grasped his arm lightly. Castiel halted, wearing an innocent expression.

Dean hummed lowly. “You’re such a bad angel, my love.”

Castiel smirked. He knew that he was. And he knew that Dean loves that about him.

The rebellious nature of Castiel didn’t just go away. It was tamed, but it lingered, only being unleashed in times such as these.

As if making his own point, Castiel’s fingers grasped Dean’s jaw, forcing Dean to tilt his head to the side. Dean stared at Castiel’s lips, his feathery eyelashes fluttering in anticipation.

Without further ado, Castiel kissed Dean lightly, a flirtatious goodbye, a coy invitation for more.

Dean groaned, facing Castiel and pressing their lips together more and more and more, his hands traveling up Castiel’s bare back and arms. Castiel kept pace with Dean easily, smiling demurely into every lip press. He chose to keep his hands to himself, knowing that Dean would snap if Castiel destroyed his clothing.

They went on and on and on, Dean eventually forcing them apart.

Fucking time constraints.

Dean took shallow breaths, Castiel watching Dean construct his kingly mask, his outward indifference and inward cruelty.

Dean’s composure returned a moment later, his walls erecting themselves, a slow brick-by-brick process. It gave Castiel time. Dean breathed, “if we had lived instead of died, I would have fucking married you on the spot. Did you know that?”

Castiel shook his head numbly, in complete disbelief.

This had to be a dream. It had to be.

Castiel managed, “marriage no longer means a thing in this world.”

“You’re right. But I,” Dean said hesitantly, “always liked the idea.”

Castiel was affronted. This was odd, coming from the man who drank and fucked both women and men frivolously when he was human.

Dean smiled with his eyes. Just like always, Dean read Castiel’s thoughts. “Is it so hard for you to believe that a demon king, comprised of smoke, in love with an angel king, comprised of six wings, multiple animal heads, and holy light, believes in the sanctity of marriage?”

Castiel side smiled. That was Dean’s way of saying he liked Castiel’s true form. Castiel knew Dean had a particular fondness for his lion head, for his sharp teeth and long tongue eking every last drop of pleasure from Dean, low growls and roars a sign of possession. “You are mine,” Castiel would say. “Only mine. Always mine.” 

Dean always replied with moans and whimpers of his own. “I am yours,” Dean would agree. “Only yours. Always yours.”

Castiel brought his drifting mind back to the present. Their clock was ticking. He answered, as if his statement were an indisputable fact, “we are already married.”

Dean’s hands travelled from the small of Castiel’s back to his shoulder blades. His eyes were piercing, possessive. “Of course. Marriage is simply faithfulness.”

Castiel eyed Dean critically. “Have you been faithful to me, my love?”

“Of course,” Dean said smoothly, Castiel knowing without a doubt that he was being truthful.

“Then, in the eyes of Heaven, Earth, and even Hell,” Castiel declared, “I pronounce us married.”

A flurry of emotions burst out of Dean’s mask, all of them positive, all of them sweet and startling and loving.

He knew what Castiel had just done. Castiel had officially married them. No fuss, no muss. Just their style.

Dean allowed himself to smile genuinely. “Do I get to kiss the groom?”

“Not when the groom is naked but for a sheet,” Castiel teased.

Dean worried his bottom lip, desire filling his irises. “Dress, then. Husband.”

Castiel couldn’t help the smile that reached his features. He winked and left Dean’s embrace, swaying his hips as he gathered his clothes.

Castiel was about to unfasten the sheet around his waist when he raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Have some tact, would you?”

Dean slid his eyes away from Castiel’s form, not ashamed in the slightest for being caught staring. Dean turned around, but positioned himself so that a wall mirror would catch slivers of Castiel’s skin.

Castiel snorted. That was as good as it was going to get.

He let the sheets pool around his feet, creating a puddle of papery fabric on the carpet. Castiel diverted his attention from Dean, slipping on boxers and pants easily. He toed on his shoes. Castiel threw his dress shirt over his shoulders, slipping his arms through the sleeves.

Going off book, Dean turned around and crossed the space between them in a split second. Before Castiel could protest, Dean pulled the shirt fabric together, securing the bottom button.

Anything to keep on touching him, Castiel supposed.

Castiel allowed Dean to button up his shirt with deft fingers, brushing them along his torso whenever Dean found the opportunity. Castiel focused on Dean’s eyelashes as he worked, focused on Dean’s prominent freckles, focused on Dean’s perfectly-structured face.

Dean secured the final button at the hollow of Castiel’s throat, splaying his palms across Castiel’s chest. “Can we make this marriage official, now?”

“Making it official,” Castiel said, “would mean consummation. I will allow you a kiss, my husband, but then I must depart.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “Remember that I love you, Cas. Always.”

Cas, Cas, Cas.

“Help me, Cas.” “Please, Cas.” “I need you, Cas.” “Heal me, Cas.” “Kill it, Cas.” “Don’t, Cas.” “No, Cas.” “Yes, Cas.” “Kiss me, Cas.” “Touch me, Cas.” “Perfect, Cas.” “Take me, Cas.” 

“I love you, Cas.”

Castiel replied easily, “I love you too, Dean. Always.”

Their kiss was bittersweet, beautiful. World-ending. Life-changing. 

Sealing a forever promise of love and faithfulness.

They pulled away at the exact same second, meeting each other’s gaze and knowing they only had a moment left. Castiel drowned in the depths of Dean’s green eyes.

“Next month,” Dean exhaled, “I’m spending every second I can in bed with you. Do you understand me?”

Castiel murmured, “I’ll make myself look especially alluring for you.”

“You always captivate me, my love.”

Castiel smiled softly, sadly, sweetly. In place of a goodbye kiss, Castiel swiped his thumb across Dean’s bottom lip.

Before Castiel could second guess himself, he took one last look in the mirror, smoothed his clothes out, and walked out the motel room door.

————

As the days trickled by, Hell didn’t seem as bleak anymore.

Dean took to his duties with new vigor, new energy, new purpose. All while keeping his perpetually angry mask secure. He couldn’t afford the mistake of smiling or showing happiness or seeming at peace in any way, or else they would know something was wrong with their king. They would jump to conclusions. Dean’s weakness would surely be discovered and exploited. Dean had to remain an impenetrable stone wall, both on the outside and the inside.

When Dean was alone in his throne room, he allowed himself to entertain fleeting thoughts of Castiel. How he felt when Castiel kissed him, lost and found. How Castiel’s remarks vexed and flummoxed and toyed with him. How Castiel’s body was a true work of art, one that deserved to be worshipped. How Castiel, despite all that had transpired between them, had the guts and gall to be so good in bed that Dean couldn’t find the words. How Castiel’s lips always tasted sweet, like sugar and spice and everything nice. How Castiel still looked as ridiculously handsome as he did when Dean met him in a barn ages ago, in another life and time.

In another life, Dean would have had the courage to kiss Castiel sooner. Not when they were going to die. Not at the last possible second, the last night they would have as human and seraphim. Not just moments before God forced Dean and Castiel to make a choice. A choice that altered the course of their beings forever, and will keep them together yet apart for all eternity, until Earth was swallowed by the burning sun.

The choice wasn’t even really a choice. More like an order.

And it was this: to allow Sam Winchester to live peacefully on Earth with no monsters, Dean had to return to Hell, where his soul belonged, and Castiel had to return to Heaven as a forsaken angel, forced to take over in Chuck’s stead. God allowed Dean and Castiel to visit for an hour every month, since that was now the allotted time a demon and an angel could remain on Earth’s plane without being burned to a crisp.

Dean and Castiel agreed, taking their respective kingships. Sam lived a long and happy life, then died old. Now he was in Heaven, Castiel able to keep tabs on him. But the deal could not be reversed. Dean and Castiel remained in power, and would have to continue their duties forever.

Whoever said God was merciful was a fucking liar.

From his throne, Dean would curse at Castiel’s God for trapping them in this manner.

They may be wed, but they would never be free.

Seeing Castiel had become Dean’s only reason for slogging along with his job. Castiel had been saving him since they met. Just hearing Castiel’s voice over a crackling smartphone when he was human could tide Dean over until they crossed paths again.

And secrecy was key to keeping this arrangement going without a hitch.

Hell has been relatively quiet, as of late. Not as many executions or tortures or punishments had to be doled out.

As the months had been passing, Dean made a crucial realization: it was because of Dean and Castiel’s happiness. It brought peace.

Now that they were wed, Dean expected nothing but happy trails ahead.

Finally.

————

Sam’s Heaven was a library. Castiel expected nothing less from the bookish Sam Winchester.

Sam was surprised to see the king of Heaven at his endless library. Nonetheless, he greeted Castiel kindly and offered him a seat in an armchair.

“You’ll never guess who showed up here two books ago,” Sam said. Since he wasn’t one to keep people in suspense, he continued, “Claire.”

Castiel’s eyebrow quirked upwards. “She found you?”

“Wait.” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed. “You know she’s here?”

Castiel smiled amusedly. 

“You’re king. You know everything.” Sam huffed. “Right.”

Castiel knew what that huff meant. Sam hated the whole arrangement like Castiel did. Dean suffered in Hell while Castiel became a husk of a king in Heaven. It wasn’t fair.

Castiel said, “I’m glad she’s alright.”

“She wants to see you.”

Castiel clenched his jaw. He should have known this would happen. “Of course she does.”

“Claire will find you eventually. She’s intuitive and resourceful.”

“That she is.”

Sam switched the conversation like flipping a coin. “Something’s different about you.”

“If you say so.”

“I know it. Something’s different. A good different. Tell me.”

Castiel shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. He remained mum.

“I know you love my brother.”

Castiel’s mind flashed with a billion emotions he couldn’t register, there and gone.

“You always have. I know that. I’m not blind.”

“Of course you’re not,” Castiel said hollowly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Has something good happened?” Sam asked, trying to read Castiel just from his shifting expression.

“Something...complicated,” Castiel replied hesitantly.

“Isn’t it always?”

Castiel sighed. It was time to come clean. “We’ve had something going on for a while now.”

Sam’s smile lit up the room, soon being dwarfed by confusion. “What’s the problem, then?”

“Everything else.”

Sam bowed his head. “You two have the worst luck out of anybody I’ve ever met.”

Castiel exhaled through his nose, leaning forward in his chair, lacing his fingers together. He decided to answer Sam’s question. “I’m different because we’re married.”

Sam’s face brightened, a grin dominating his expression. “It’s about fucking time. I’m happy for you both.”

“I feel like I’m in a Shakespearean tragedy,” Castiel said somberly. “They love each other, but alas,” Castiel said dramatically, holding up a hand to resemble lifting an invisible skull, “they can never be. Not completely.”

Sam’s mouth formed a thin line. “Still better than nothing, though, isn’t it?”

Castiel left the question unanswered.

————

Dean laid on the mattress with his eyes closed, taking shallow breaths as the aftershocks of pleasure rolled off of him in waves.

Sex with Castiel was never like this before. Dean didn’t even know how to describe it.

With every exhale, Dean felt happier than he ever recalled being. Ecstasy and elation ran through his veins, more powerful than any drug Dean had ever taken.

Dean should be afraid right now. Afraid that he finally let Castiel see everything, see into his soul, see what was left of the hunter formerly known as Dean Winchester.

But Castiel took this knowledge and held it in his hands carefully, with no malicious intent whatsoever. Castiel countered Dean’s information with his own, baring the full weight of his true form for Dean’s eyes to witness.

Dean was not worthy.

Dean moved the sheets to cover his waist, finally cracking his eyes open. Light speared through his retinas, but he adjusted to it quickly.

Through fuzzy vision and with a cotton-stuffed mind, Dean tilted his head to the side, his cheek dipping into the pillow comfortably. He exhaled a little moan, blinking to clear his vision.

Castiel had rustled and shifted around in bed. Dean observed Castiel’s statuesque backside as he searched for something on the floor. Dean’s eyes travelled from broad shoulders to strong corded muscles to the dip of his spine, the top section of his ass just peeking out from the constraints of the bedsheets. Castiel reappeared with a cigarette between two fingers and a lighter in the opposite hand.

Castiel was trembling, his hand shaking from the memory of Dean touching him in all the right places. 

Dean felt pride at accomplishing such a feat.

Dean watched raptly as Castiel’s head was swallowed by the pillow, his kiss-swollen lips closing around the cigarette. Castiel adjusted comfortably on his back, his sapphire eyes glancing at Dean, a smirk contained inside them. Castiel focused on the ceiling as his thumb flicked open the lighter, bringing the small flame to his lips. The cigarette burned at the edge, Castiel snapping his lighter closed. He cast his arm over his side of bed, letting the lighter fall from his fingers and into his black jeans pocket. Castiel brought his arm back up and lifted the cigarette from his mouth, smoke erupting from his lips, a mushroom cloud permeating the air.

Castiel has never had a cigarette after sex before. 

This was a compliment of the highest order.

Dean shifted his body closer, until their sides pressed together. Castiel glanced over curiously, Dean taking advantage of his confusion and plucking the cigarette from Castiel’s fingers.

“Hey,” Castiel protested roughly.

Dean smiled playfully and brought the cigarette to his lips, sucking in smoke, letting the taste fill his mouth. The shot of nicotine instantly delivered a shock of pleasure to Dean’s insides.

Dean could get used to this.

He removed the cigarette from his lips, blowing out a rather impressive smoke ring. Dean raised an eyebrow and chuckled.

Genuinely chuckled.

Dean let the action warm him, realizing suddenly that Castiel was observing him with interest. Dean looked to his side, at the flecks of various blues in Castiel’s eyes, and felt content.

Truly content.

Dean was weightless here. Floating in midair, on invisible clouds. Drifting in this room, on this bed.

Their first marriage bed.

“I love you,” Castiel said.

The three words seeped into Dean’s skin, blanketed him in warmth, made his borrowed heart bleed.

“I love you too,” Dean replied, handing Castiel his cigarette back.

————

Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dean so happy.

Dean had always been an Atlas, bearing the brunt of everyone’s pain. Hating himself for things that were out of his control.

Dean has never smiled like this before. Lips curled upwards, his expression relaxed and carefree, his eyes half-lidded, observing Castiel leisurely and tiredly.

Castiel was going to ruin it.

He took a puff of smoke in his mouth and set it free, over and over for a moment. He rolled the burning cigarette between his fingers from nervousness.

He didn’t want to ruin this.

Castiel saved the image in his mind, and just in time. Dean’s eyebrows pinched, his forehead creasing in confusion. “What ails you,” Dean took the cigarette out of Castiel’s hand, “my king?” Dean glanced at the cigarette on its last sputter, inhaled the last puff, and put it out on the nightstand. He would clean it later.

On a whim, Castiel cupped Dean’s cheeks and pressed their lips together. Dean opened his mouth, letting the smoke pour into Castiel’s, a perfect transfer. Dean pulled away and watched raptly as Castiel turned his head to the ceiling and emitted a smoke ring.

Before Dean could formulate any desirous thoughts, Castiel replied, “Claire is in Heaven. Trying to find me.”

Dean frowned in the corner of Castiel’s eye.

Castiel knew he would ruin it.

Dean said, “it will upset her.”

Their situation. Not being able to see Dean. Seeing a melancholy angel king, stripped of the one thing he always wanted, but could only have in small doses.

“I know,” Castiel murmured.

“Tell her I’m okay,” Dean rumbled, turning to his side in bed. “Tell her I’m sorry.”

Castiel swallowed thickly. “Okay.” Feeling horrible, Castiel decided to change the subject to a more positive note. “Sam knows. He’s really happy for us.”

“Really?” Dean asked in disbelief.

Castiel gathered the strength to look at Dean. “Of course. He had to watch our sexual tension bullshit for ages.”

Dean’s easy smile returned. “You’ve got a point there.”

Castiel bit his lip. He was going to bring something up. Something dangerous. “I want to give you something,” he said ominously.

Castiel half-expected Dean to waggle his eyebrows and say, “you already gave me something, my love.”

Instead, Dean was silent, his form of permission.

Castiel shifted regretfully away from Dean, slipping a vial laced with a long cord from his jeans. Castiel laid back down, a familiar blue light catching on the vial and erupting the room in a bright hue.

Dean’s eyes widened. His tone was deep and measured. “Cas, are you insane?”

Castiel grinned. “Oh, yes.” 

Dean’s eyes skated over Castiel frantically. “This is suicide.”

“Absolutely.”

“You’re insane. Well and truly insane.”

Castiel secured the cord around Dean’s neck, a glass vial glowing with a drop of Castiel’s angel grace. He took in the image of a shirtless Dean with a glowing blue light above his heart appreciatively. “It suits you, husband.”

Dean glanced at the vial, then closed a hand over it, blue light peeking out from between his fingers. “I can’t wear this.”

Castiel smiled knowingly. “Yes, you can.” He spoke an Enochian phrase, the vial shrinking and reshaping itself. Dean’s eyes widened as he felt the necklace twist and evolve in his palm. When it stopped shifting, Dean opened his hand slowly, as if scared of what was inside it.

Instead of the vial, a carbon copy of Dean’s old amulet hung off the cord.

Dean’s mouth fell open in pure shock. He quickly schooled his expression, a side smile lighting up his face. His amused eyes pierced through Castiel’s. “That’s a neat trick, husband.”

“I know. Satisfied that we won’t get caught?”

Dean chuckled, the sound forming a symphony in the motel room. “I am, my love.” He leaned away suddenly, casting his arm on the opposite side of the bed. He searched for his jeans, pulling out the original amulet from his pocket. Dean laid back down and procured it for Castiel. “I suppose this is yours, now.” Castiel allowed Dean to wrap the cord over his neck, the amulet resting over Castiel’s heart. “There you are.” Dean pressed a feather light kiss to Castiel’s lips. “Perfect.”

Castiel’s features were set alight. “Perfect?”

Overcome with confidence, Dean rolled on top of Castiel and murmured into his mouth, “absolutely perfect.”

————

Dean wore his disguised amulet every day.

————

“Cas!”

Castiel stopped in his tracks, his hand closing into a fist.

Claire was behind him.

Shit.

Castiel turned around, dismissing his guards with some hastily-spoken, carefully-chosen words. He was assaulted with an armful of dark makeup and black clothes and shockingly blonde hair.

“Oh, Cas,” Claire muffled, “it’s so great to see you!”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Castiel said.

Claire pulled away from the hug, her expression bright and kind. “I heard you rule this place. That’s cool.”

Castiel shrugged. 

“Where’s Dean?”

Castiel pursed his lips. Sam didn’t tell her.

Castiel sighed, Dean’s amulet feeling especially cold against his skin. “He’s in Hell.”

Claire’s smile fell. “What?”

“It’s the deal that we made,” Castiel revealed. “It’s what kept everyone safe all this time.”

Claire blinked rapidly in shock. “I thought you both just...died in battle.”

Castiel shook his head. “Long story short, I got Heaven, and Dean got Hell. We see each other once a month, but we can only stay on Earth for an hour or else we both burn to death.”

Claire grinned. “That sounds like fun!” Claire hugged Castiel tightly again. “I’m gonna keep bugging you now. You look like you need lots of hugs.”

Castiel admitted that he did.

————

“You’re glowing, my love.”

Castiel allowed himself to blush. “Am I?”

Dean hummed in affirmation. Dean leaned upwards, chasing Castiel’s lips, encasing Castiel on top of him. Castiel lost himself in the sensations, running his hands up and down Dean’s sides. They huddled together in an embrace, skin against skin, touching every inch they could get ahold of. Dean pecked Castiel’s lips over and over, addicted to them. Castiel reciprocated each kiss lazily, the afterglow of their lovemaking still hanging in the air between them. He felt the vial of grace press lightly against his chest, a ball of blue light connecting their bodies together. Dean’s amulet laid next to the vial as if in answer, the warm metal branding their skin.

Dean finally pried their lips apart, his breath ghosting Castiel’s cheek. Dean rested their foreheads together, their eyes half-lidded from exhaustion. He breathed, “you look positively divine. And dare I say it,” Dean met Castiel’s eyes, “happy?”

Castiel leaned down for another kiss. He admitted it to himself, then aloud to Dean. “I am happy. Are you?”

Dean replied like it was a prayer. “Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
